


tempus edax rerum

by atimi (bertee)



Series: CWRPF: horas non numero [10]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Ancient Rome, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Politics, Slavery, Torture, trial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-01
Updated: 2009-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:10:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertee/pseuds/atimi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobleman!Jared has a difficult decision to make about his own safety and the well-being of slave!Jensen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tempus edax rerum

The streets of the city were not a good place to be at night.

Rome had its fair share of robbers and gangs during the day but when the sun went down, the narrow streets and secluded corners were their playground. Most respectable citizens stayed inside after dusk and even when Jared had been in the habit of staggering drunkenly from tavern to tavern with Chad, he'd known not to linger too long in the open. 

Therefore he was more than a little nervous as he loitered in the shadows of an alley and waited for Jensen to arrive.

It wasn't only the threat of violence that worried him. Sure, he'd be vulnerable if he encountered a large group but his sheer size and the muscle memories honed by four years of warfare gave him some confidence that he'd be able to hold his own in a fight.

No, it was Jensen's note that scared him. 

It had been risky for Jensen to send a note at all - stealing paper from his master and sneaking away to deliver it were both punishable offences for slaves - and although it only contained a time and a place for them to meet, Jared was terrified about what Jensen was planning to tell him at the meeting. The only other time Jensen had asked to meet him had been three months earlier when Purefoy had handed him over to Farrell as payment for personal debts, and while Jared seriously doubted whether tonight's news could be any worse than that, Jensen always seemed to surprise him.

He was pulled out of his worries by the _slap slap slap_ of sandals on stone. He ducked back into the shadows, instinctively pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders, but exhaled in relief when Jensen jogged around the corner.

Jensen's arms were bare in the moonlight and Jared saw his chest rising and falling when he came to a halt and looked around in confusion. He felt guilty when Jensen jumped as he stepped out of the shadows but before he could worry too much about how to break the ice, Jensen blurted out, "You need to get a bodyguard."

Maybe Jared had been too hasty in deciding that nothing worse could have happened.

"What?"

"A bodyguard," Jensen repeated, out of breath but serious. "The slavers are bringing in men from Spain and Africa; they're big and they can fight and you need to buy as many as you can afford."

"Whoa," Jared cut in, grasping Jensen's upper arms and feeling the goosebumps that covered the skin there. "Slow down. What's going on?"

The hands on his arms seemed to anchor him and Jared watched him take in a shuddering breath, teeth chattering in the night air before he spoke up, tone quiet and severe, "They're going to kill you." 

Jared's heart juddered against his ribs but Jensen kept talking, "I've heard Master Farrell with his friends. He's angry that he didn't get consul again this year and that the Senate don't like him, but now he's started gathering friends who hate the Senate too."

Jared's mind tried to wrap itself around what Jensen was saying but couldn't stretch far enough. "What are you saying? He's going against the Senate?"

Jensen swallowed and nodded. "He called a meeting yesterday. He's sent some of his friends up to Gaul to ally with the tribes there and some have gone out to the countryside to build up a force there. They're going to march on the city and Master Farrell wants to take out as many of the leading senators as possible."

"Oh God..." Jared murmured, stunned. "He- How can he even think that? How can _anyone_ think that? It's the Senate; he can't just expect to kill senators and bring an army into Rome without repercussions."

"I don't know," Jensen admitted. "I'm not a politician - I don't know how the people would react or if they'd support him at all. But he wants to assassinate the senators who'd be a threat to him and that can't happen." He looked up, expression open and pleading. "He wants to kill you, Jared."

"Me?" The question came out more high-pitched than Jared had intended but he couldn't hide his shock as he stammered, "But- But I don't take up office until the New Year, and even then I'm only gonna be an aedile. What did I do that's such a threat?"

Jensen gave a small shrug and Jared loosened his hold on his arms, only then realizing how tight his grip had become. "They know you're a good man," he offered. "You're popular, you value the Republic and you're rising quickly in the ranks. That's enough of a reason for them to want you out of the way."

It was Jared's turn to suck in a breath. The November air made his chest feel tight and he closed his eyes in an effort to calm down. Scared tears prickled behind his eyelids as he found himself wishing that his parents were living in the city rather than being out in the countryside, leaving him to fend for himself.

However, when he opened his eyes, Jensen was the only other person in the darkness of the street. 

Deciding he could only rely on what he had, Jared squared his shoulders and asked, "So what happens now?"

"It's your call," Jensen said simply. "You can get out of Rome tomorrow, lay low until the dust settles, and pray that the conspiracy fails."

"What?" Expecting a different response, Jared did a double-take at Jensen's instruction. "You want me to leave even when I know so much about what Farrell's planning?"

"Yes," Jensen repeated, shaking with cold but speaking with determination, "If I had any say in this, that's what I'd be making you do."

"No." Jensen's eyes went wide and Jared pushed down the urge to just give in and do what he'd asked of him. "Jen, I can't sit back and let this happen. I need to tell the consuls, I need to have Farrell and his friends arrested. Hell, I need to do _something_."

He saw Jensen's expression soften and felt guilty for snapping at him when he admitted ruefully, "I know you do. Guess it's option two: you bring this before the Senate."

The soberness of Jensen's tone surprised him and Jared frowned. "Do you not want me to? Because you're looking at me like that's a bad thing." Jensen stayed silent and Jared thought aloud, "I mean, I could bring a private lawsuit but this is way bigger than that, you know? The consuls need to know about this so they can mount a defense or arrest the conspirators or do something to protect the city and the rest of us."

Jensen smiled wryly but Jared didn't miss the scared glint in his eyes before he blinked it away and put up a stronger front. "I know. You should tell them tomorrow. They'll be able to stop Master Farrell and keep you safe." He met his eyes but there was something in his gaze that Jared couldn't read. "Convince the consuls to arrest them and you can stop the conspiracy before it starts."

Jared nodded, thoughts already rushing ahead to the details of which consul to approach, what time of day to bring it up, and what to say, but he halted abruptly when he reached a stumbling block. "Wait, what am I going to tell them? I mean, I can say what you just told me but there's no evidence of any of it. Them not liking Farrell is a start but it's not going to give me enough credibility to have him and his friends arrested for something they haven't even done yet." He looked to Jensen for help. "Is there some proof at his house that you can steal? Any plans or letters or anything?"

His heart sank when Jensen shook his head. "They're being careful. They don't write much down but the few letters that Master Farrell's received have been hidden away somewhere. I can't look for them without him getting suspicious."

"Shit," Jared cursed softly, running a hand through his hair. The movement exposed his arm to the air but he barely noticed the chill anymore, fired by fear and adrenaline. "What about his friends? If I pull one of them up on lesser charges, would there be any evidence at their houses I could use to implicate Farrell?"

Another head shake. "You don't have time," Jensen reminded him with a blankness that was rapidly becoming infuriating. "Master Farrell's already got men making alliances and raising armies. The planned assassinations are only a few days away, and they said they're going to set fires at various points in the city to stop people from fleeing."

Jared cursed again, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the responsibility of this information. "Fuck, fires?" He rubbed his temples, hating how he could feel his head ache in time with his pulse. "That'll get the people on our side at least; they may have problems with the Senate but at least we aren't going around setting fire to their homes." He sighed. "C'mon, Jensen, _think_. There's got to be evidence of this somewhere that I can take to the consuls."

Jensen's silence lasted a beat too long before he answered, "There is some evidence you can use."

"What is it?" Jared asked eagerly, his hopes climbing. "Hand it over, man."

Jensen dropped his eyes to the floor and when he spoke, his voice was small but sincere, "Me." 

Jared's mouth fell open but no words came out as Jensen looked back up like he was bracing himself for the oncoming storm. "You can use me as evidence. Master Farrell isn't concerned about talking in front of his slaves so the whole household could probably give you informatio-"

"No."

Jensen jumped at his sharp interruption but instead of backing down, he held Jared's gaze with a surprising amount of defiance. "You don't have a choice," he stated bluntly. "You've got nothing else to offer the consuls and I'm not letting you be assassinated because you won't let me give evidence against my master."

"This isn't about giving evidence!" Jared snapped, stepping away from Jensen into the center of the narrow street. "Fuck, Jensen, you're not a citizen. You can't just stand up in court and say whatever you want."

"You think I don't know that?" Jensen retorted and Jared heard his feet scuffle on the stones as he walked up behind him. "You think I ever have the option of forgetting I'm a slave?"

"No-"

"The only reason I know all of this is _because_ I'm a slave," Jensen pushed on angrily. "Master Farrell's not stupid enough to talk about his plans in front of citizens and I only know about it because when I'm not serving him wine, he forgets I'm even there!"

"And I'm grateful!" Jared shouted, turning back to face him but clenching his fists in frustration. "I'm grateful for the information, I'm glad you're looking out for me, but I am not letting you do this." 

He breathed out slowly, relaxing his fists and trying to slow the pounding of blood in his ears as he crooked his fingers under Jensen's chin to bring their eyes up to meet. "You know what you're asking me to do, right?" Jared asked. "The only way a slave's evidence can be taken into account is if it's obtained under torture. If I go to the consuls with this, you and all the rest of Farrell's slaves would be tortured for evidence which still wouldn't hold much weight with citizens." Swallowing hard, he rested his thumb below Jensen's lips with the question, "How can you expect me to do that to you?"

"I don't expect anything from you," Jensen replied, eyes bright in the moonlight which had made it past the clouds. "I never have and you know that. But I am _asking_ you to do this." He smiled sadly. "I wish I could give you some stirring speech on how it's for the good of the whole city and how it would save lives but I don't care about that. What I care about is that if you don't stop them, they're going to kill you."

"But-"

"No," Jensen cut in. "No 'but's or 'if's or 'and's. They will kill you, and I didn't wait for you for four years just to watch you die in the city at the hands of a goddamn traitor." He wavered between anger and desperation but settled for begging, "Please, Jared, please just tell the consuls."

Jared couldn't find any solution to offer. As repellent as he found the idea of Jensen being hurt to ensure his safety, he knew that Jensen wouldn't be pacified unless Jared could find some other way of stopping the rebellion without getting hurt himself. 

Since no other way was coming to mind, he suggested as good a compromise as he thought Jensen would accept. "You're right, okay? I don't have any better options. But if I can think of some other way, any other way of stopping Farrell without putting you through that, then I get to take it, all right?"

From the look of relieved victory on Jensen's face, Jared was fairly certain he wasn't going to find another way out of this situation but he forced a smile when Jensen nodded and leaned up to breathe a quiet "Thank you" against his lips.

When Jensen slanted their mouths together, Jared kissed him back, but he couldn't ignore the cold terror that settled low in his gut.

****

+++

By the time the first rays of the sun slid in through the open roof of his atrium, Jared felt like sand had been scraped over all his senses, rendering them raw and painful.

His mind was empty, the same particles of thoughts drifting together and apart in no order and leaving him with no alternate solution which would be acceptable to both him and Jensen, and his eyes were red-rimmed, a product of too many worries and too little sleep.

In the clouded sky, the sun climbed higher. 

He headed out into the forum as it filled with the first rush of traders and politicians but ignored all attempts at casual conversation until he'd found one of the consuls to pull aside into a corner of the Senate House. His throat was scratchy and sore from a night spent going over and over his options with Jeff and so his voice came out more and more gravelly with every single word he uttered about Farrell's intended rebellion.

He'd expected to feel guilty once he'd finished talking. He was prepared for a rush of self-loathing or even a bout of self-pity but once he'd got the words out, pushing them past the barrier of his reluctant tongue, all he felt was powerless.

He couldn't do anything but count the hours as the consuls, praetors and other magistrates held frantic, hushed meetings throughout Rome. The rise of the sun felt interminably slow while they kept talking, going over and over Jared's accusation and possible courses of action until Jared was ready to shout at them to put him out of the misery of waiting.

It wasn't until noon and the meeting with the Gallic envoys that words started to transform into deeds.

Jared wasn't sure exactly what had been discussed but from the sudden confidence displayed by the consul in issuing orders, he assumed the envoys had corroborated his accusation that Farrell had been hoping to ally with Gauls to attack Rome. That was the catalyst rather than the conclusion and in less than an hour, guards started to wind their way through the city streets to protect individual senators or to seek out the traitors.

Farrell's house was the first one to be surrounded. 

The ringleader himself wasn't there but Jared watched in painful silence as his slaves were led away in shackles, jostled along by the shouts and raised fists of their interrogators. Jensen's shoulders were hunched and his head was down when he was shoved forward with the rest of the scared slaves and Jared didn't make any attempt to catch his attention, not even knowing how to look at Jensen if he happened to catch his eye. 

Instead he waited out of sight and watched the junior magistrates move past the guards to enter the house. They didn't stay inside for long and when they emerged, it was with expressions of grim determination on their faces and a small stack of letters in their hands. 

From the escort that accompanied them to the Senate House, there was no doubt that the letters contained some kind of proof, and word started to spread as the shadows started to grow.

He wasn't privy to every conversation but he saw enough to know what was going on. White-robed senators dashed from house to house as the consuls gathered support and prepared the Senate for the decisions they would have to make later that night. Whispers and gossip buzzed throughout the forum, punctuated by the clanging of armor as troops were led out to deal with the enemy armies in the field and to secure the perimeter of the city itself.

In the late afternoon, one of the consuls arrived in the forum to speak to the people. 

The parts of the speech Jared listened to were good. He roused the people, telling them of the scope of the planned rebellion and the wickedness of the conspirators while simultaneously reassuring them that he, as consul, would stop the plans and would bring the men to justice. 

In other circumstances, Jared might have objected to him taking all the credit but as the sun hid behind the buildings, he would've gladly got down on his knees in praise of the consul if it meant the conspiracy would be stopped and Jensen wouldn't be handed back over to his owner.

An hour after sunset, the conspirators were caught.

****

+++

The atmosphere in the Senate House that night was unlike anything Jared had ever felt before.

Even though it was well after sunset, there was still a thronging crowd outside whose shouts rose up at random intervals during the long hours the Senate had spent in the meeting. Guards were still stationed inside and outside the doors and Jared thought they almost contributed more to the tension than the small group of conspirators clustered in the center of the chamber. There was no doubt about their guilt - the evidence from the envoys, their letters, and Farrell's slaves was overwhelming - but the question of punishment still rested in the hands of the gathered senators.

From his seat in the back rows, Jared listened to the consul deliver his closing speech, imploring the gathered senators to decide between the long-term imprisonment and the immediate execution of the traitors. He'd followed the arguments and listened to the speeches but even though the moment of truth was approaching, he couldn't stop his mind from slipping away to Jensen and all the things which might have been done to him to make his statement acceptable in the eyes of the Senate. 

Lost in nightmarish thoughts of blood and beatings, he was taken aback when there was movement all through the Senate House.

He looked to the consul, worried that he'd somehow missed the decision, but quickly realized he was actually in the middle of it as senators all throughout the chamber either got to their feet or stayed seated to make their choice. Before Jared could worry too much that he'd missed the explanation - did standing up count as a vote for execution or for imprisonment? - the consul rose to his feet and surveyed the room. 

The clear majority of senators were standing, with only a scattered few remaining in their seats, and so Jared's confusion had little influence on the verdict, which the consul addressed to the conspirators, "By the consensus of the Senate, for crimes against the Republic and the People of Rome, you are to be put to death immediately."

The Senate House erupted into noise. 

Some of the conspirators struggled violently as they were dragged away to be killed, their shouts drowned out by the jeers and cries of the crowd when the doors were thrown open to remove them from the Senate House. Inside, the senators had a similar reaction, gathering in groups to express surprise, displeasure or approval, or simply dashing out to try to avoid being waylaid by the public. 

With only one thing in mind, Jared fought his way through the rising chaos of the assembly and caught the arm of one of the praetors before he could duck out into the crowds. "Their property passes to the State now, right?"

The praetor jumped at his presence and the question, and frowned, shouting over the noise of the crowd. "What?"

"Farrell!" Jared yelled back as more senators pushed past them to get out and go home. "His property goes to the State?"

The praetor looked baffled but nodded, tugging his toga back onto his shoulder and leaning in with the rushed comment, "Yes. Criminal cases like this, everything passes to the Republic. Why?"

Jared tossed him his half-empty purse with an answer that was more of a command than a request, "I want one of his slaves." The praetor wrinkled his nose, clearly thinking of the state Farrell's slaves would be in, and Jared continued, "I'll sort out the paperwork tomorrow."

With a final clap on his shoulder, he pushed past the confused praetor and then past the cheering crowd which was slowly dissipating now that the threat was gone. 

Jeff was waiting for him in the shadow of the temple of Saturn and spoke as Jared approached, "I'm guessing they were found guilty?" Jared was already forgetting about Farrell and the conspiracy, and Jeff must have read this on his face as he changed the topic to the more pressing question, "Where's your boy?"

"Leto's house." He shifted from foot to foot, filled with enough energy to run straight there but held in place out of respect to Jeff. "Farrell and Leto's slaves should all be there still." Some part of him felt guilty for his lack of concern for the rest of the slaves who had undoubtedly been tortured too, but it was outweighed easily by the part of his mind which was solely occupied by Jensen. "I'm going now - I'm not leaving him there till morning."

Jeff looked like he wanted to protest and Jared was thankful when he didn't, instead acknowledging his implicit demands with the agreement, "I'll round up enough men to carry a litter and meet you over there." He smiled, the tired crinkles around his eyes not enough to mask the underlying fondness. "Get gone, Jared."

He didn't need any more encouragement than that.

The streets were quiet as he jogged away from the forum and up towards Leto's house on the Palatine. Most people who weren't asleep in their homes were still trickling out of the forum after the excitement of the day's events and the soldiers stationed around the city prevented the usual night-time brawls and robberies. Even the taverns were quiet when he wound his way through the side-streets and Jared wondered whether it was later into the night than he'd thought.

The stars were hidden and the moon was clouded over when he reached Leto's house, and he was glad to see that the torches were still lit when he opened the heavy wooden door and stepped inside.

The place was half-destroyed. Furniture was overturned, papers lay strewn on the floor, and Jared wouldn't have been surprised if the guards that were there earlier had already carried off all of Leto's more expensive goods for themselves. However, he had no interest in pillaging and moved quietly through the atrium towards the store rooms at the opposite end of the house where he knew the slaves would be kept.

As he got nearer, the sounds grew louder and the smell grew stronger. The noise of groans and coughs were mixed with the stench of piss and blood, and Jared tried to ignore the nausea that rose in his throat at the sickening memories of warfare that his senses conjured up.

He pushed the door open and was immediately met with frightened whimpers in instinctive response to the presence of someone new. It took his eyes a moment to focus in the darkness of the storage room but he didn't feel any less sick when he could finally see. 

The sight reminded him of the field after a battle, of picking through corpses of people who shouldn't have died to find the one he prayed was still alive. Slaves were slumped against the walls, some dead, some unconscious, but all bloodied, and more were huddled together in the corners of the room or hanging by their wrists from the hooks embedded in the low ceiling. The room was hot and humid from the number of people trapped inside and Jared wiped his forehead with the fabric of his toga, holding the material across his mouth as a feeble protection against disease or infection as he walked further inside.

"Jensen?"

As unthreatening as his question was, it produced more cowering and scared sobs, and he reassured guiltily and awkwardly, "It's okay, I'm not here to hurt anybody. I'm just looking for someone." He didn't even know who he was talking to as he glanced over faces which were lax in sleep or in death but kept speaking to calm himself as well as anyone who may have been listening, "His name's Jensen. He was owned by Farrell, he-"

"Jensen?"

Jared whipped around at the voice from behind him and tried to find its owner among the slaves lining the walls. "Is he here?"

"He's here." 

Jared's gaze fell on the man who was talking. His back was against the wall and his face was bruised almost beyond recognition, a red slash of blood slicing through the purples and blues of his cheek. Something caught in Jared's chest when he saw the woman fast asleep in his arms, the marks of a caning visible above the back of her dress. 

The man eyed Jared coldly, spitting on the dirty floor as he muttered, "Fuckin' traitor."

Jared frowned, halting in his tracks. "Jensen? He's a traitor?"

"You think we're too stupid to know what's goin' on?" the guy slurred, anger dulled only by pain. "He sneaks out last night and then this happens to us? He's a traitor." He spat again, blood mixed with saliva. "Hope they fuckin' killed him."

Jared's blood ran cold and he hated himself for his growing fury towards someone who, for all his defiance, was utterly helpless. "Where is he?"

The guy laughed sharply, sounding more croaking than mirthful, and nodded somewhere to Jared's right. "Up there." He sounded perversely satisfied as he added, "They worked him over pretty good."

Sickness rose up again at the sudden realization that Jensen might not have made it through this after all, that Jared's horrific assumptions might have actually been an improvement on reality. Turning away from the man by the wall, Jared started to look among the slaves attached to the hooks, skimming over their wounded bodies in his search for Jensen's familiar face.

It didn't take him long to find him.

"Oh God..."

Behind him, the slave snorted but Jared ignored him, eyes wide and lower lip caught between his teeth as he approached Jensen. 

Jensen's wrists were bound together, the rope looped over a hook to stretch his arms above his head and to hold him upright as he slumped in his restraints. From the messy, bloody stripes across his back, Jared guessed he'd been flogged, and the cuts and bruises which marred his face and chest spoke of further abuse in the hours he'd spent in the care of the State's interrogators and the other slaves.

"Jensen?" he whispered, not sure whether he could even touch him without causing him pain. "Jen? Can you hear me?"

Jensen gave no sign of hearing him. Swallowing nervously, Jared reached out with one hand to tilt his head up and check his pulse, and he exhaled in relief when he found one, slow and thready but definitely there. Lifting Jensen's head higher, he checked his face for serious injuries, parting his lips and lifting his eyelids to check his tongue and eyes were still in place. 

He was reassured in this respect but his fears weren't helped by Jensen remaining unconscious and unresponsive throughout.

The room was too dark to see more but when he heard noise from outside and Jeff's uncertain call of "Master Padalecki?", he was spurred into action again.

"I'm here, Jeff!" he called back, scanning the room for something to cut the rope with. "I found him!"

Jeff's silhouette blocked some of the light in the doorway as Jared reached up with a knife to saw through Jensen's ropes.

"He alive?" Jeff asked gruffly.

Jared nodded. "Yeah. He's out of it but he's alive-"

His breath was pushed out of him when the ropes gave way and Jensen's body slumped forward against his. He staggered for a moment before crouching to settle Jensen in position over his shoulder and then standing cautiously and moving over to Jeff who winced in sympathy.

"Fuck, someone didn't like this kid," he said, looking at Jensen with an appraising eye. "He's in bad shape, Jared."

"I know," Jared said quietly. "But he's gonna be okay, right?"

"We'll do our best," Jeff offered, not sounding convinced. "Those feet are going to be a problem though."

"Feet?" Jared's heart clenched with worry. "I didn't- What's wrong with his feet?"

Jeff winced again, stepping back to let Jared carry Jensen out of the storage room and towards the waiting litter before he explained, "He's got a couple of deep cuts on each one. If they made him stand like that, I'm not surprised he passed out."

Jared glanced down at Jensen's feet, now feeling the blood soaking into his toga from where his feet rested against Jared's body. "Should we-"

"Just get him home," Jeff advised. "The litter's right here and we can stitch him up when we get back."

It was with reluctance that Jared set Jensen down on the cushion-covered litter Jeff had found at Leto's house, mindful of the wounds on his back and feet. He dabbed absently at the bloodstain on his toga and watched as the slaves Jeff had gathered lifted the litter and began the journey back to Jared's house.

The whole way back home, Jensen didn't stir.

****

+++

The sun had barely risen over the rooftops when Jared arrived back at his house with a roll of paper clutched in his hand.

He was still exhausted from the excitement of the previous night; the few hours of patchy sleep he'd grabbed before dawn had had little impact and his back was feeling the effects of sleeping on a couch after putting the injured Jensen in his own bed for the night. From the quietness of the city and the grumpy reaction he'd got from the praetor, he guessed he wasn't the only one who was moving sluggishly that morning.

Despite his lack of enthusiasm at Jared's early morning visit to his house, the praetor had let him in anyway and had provided him with the paperwork to complete his purchase of Jensen. Jared was thankful for the lack of questions about his need to buy this one particular slave and had finished up quickly, returning home with Jensen's ownership deeds before most businesses had opened up for the day.

He closed the door behind him as quietly as possible - if Jensen was asleep, he didn't want to do anything to wake him - but it proved to be pointless when Jeff stuck his head around the bedroom door with a relieved sigh. "Oh, thank God."

His concern spiked once again and Jared hurried toward the bedroom. "What happened? Is Jensen okay?"

Jeff came out to stop him before he could go running in, grabbing his arms and saying calmly, "Whoa, slow down, kiddo. Your boy's fine."

"Is he awake?"

Jeff nodded and Jared cursed under his breath; after being asleep the whole night, Jensen had to pick the hour Jared was gone to wake up.

"He just came to," Jeff filled in, offering Jared a half-smile, "but you should get in there before he freaks out too much. Hell, if I woke up in a strange bed with some guy checking out my back, I'd be freaked out too-"

There was a thump and a muffled cry from the bedroom as Jeff finished speaking. Jared flashed him a grateful but distracted smile and moved past him, pushing open the bedroom door but frowning when he found the bed empty.

"Jensen?"

He heard a noise from the other side of the room and peered around the bed. His eyes widened when he saw Jensen on his knees, shoulders hunched and hands splayed on the floor for balance.

"Jen-"

Jensen's head snapped up, his cheeks ashen and his lips parting in shock. "Jared?"

Dropping to his knees, Jared held back from touching him in an effort to avoid spooking him any more but was careful with his tone as he said uncertainly, "Hey. How're you doing?"

Jensen didn't seem to have heard the question. His arms were shaking with the effort of supporting himself but his gaze traveled over Jared in disbelief as he stammered, amazed, "You- You're alive."

Jared inched closer, keeping his movements slow and predictable as he held his hands up with a smile. "Yep. Alive and well."

He was almost foolish enough to expect a joke or a punch to the arm in response, as though he wasn't talking to a guy who'd spent the previous day being beaten half to death, but he frowned when Jensen's only answer was to let his head drop back down. A strange chill ran through him at the thought that him being alive was something that upset Jensen but he quickly re-evaluated when he caught the hitch in Jensen's breathing as he tried to get himself under control.

"Hey," he murmured, softer this time, "it's okay. Everything's okay." 

He closed the gap between them, coaxing Jensen into his arms as much as his injuries would allow. Jensen's head came to rest on his shoulder, face pressed into the crook of his neck and breath still coming out in choked sobs. 

"M'sorry," Jensen whispered in apology, voice hoarse and shoulders shaking in an attempt to push himself back up away from Jared. "I'm sorry. I-"

"Shhh," Jared chided, having no idea why Jensen was apologizing but wanting him to stop. "You've got nothing to be sorry for." He kissed the top of his head, holding him in the makeshift embrace as he repeated, "Everything's okay."

Jared wasn't sure how he'd be reacting if he was in Jensen's position but he was pretty sure it would involve being a lot less composed, and he settled for tracing tiny circles on his neck with the pads of his fingers while he gave him the time he needed to recover; he'd forgotten he wasn't the only one who'd been scared of losing someone.

He shifted his hand down when Jensen pulled in a deep breath and struggled to sit back on his heels, swiping at the tears on his cheeks but still looking pale and unsteady.

"Master Farrell?" he asked nervously. "Is he-"

"He's dead," Jared cut in. "He and his friends were caught and executed last night. There's still an army in the field but they won't hold out for long." He risked a smile. "It's over."

His smile faded when Jensen didn't seem to share his relief and looked at anything but Jared's eyes as he asked, "Am I a public slave now?" He glanced up and clarified upon seeing Jared's frown, "Am- Did I pass to the State with the rest of Master Farrell's property?"

"No," Jared said hurriedly, before correcting, "Well, yes, but-" He took a breath; somehow saying the words was harder now that they were true. "I bought you." He swallowed hard. "You're mine."

Jensen froze at that, leaving Jared to deal with what he could see rather than with what Jensen immediately shuttered away behind his eyes. Since what he could see was a terrified slave on his knees in his bedroom, Jared panicked. 

"Jensen, you don't-"

Seeing Jensen start at the sudden exclamation, Jared cut himself off and changed tack to ask instead, "How come you're down here on the floor?"

Jensen actually looked embarrassed at that and a faint pink blush suffused his pale cheeks, giving him a closer resemblance to healthy as he admitted, "I didn't know where I was. There was a man by the bed-"

"Jeff," Jared explained instinctively. "Sorry, I thought you'd met him before."

"He- Jeff went outside," Jensen continued carefully, pausing to see if Jared was going to speak again and then carrying on when he didn't, "I heard voices and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be there or not so I tried to get up." He shrugged sheepishly. "I guess I forgot about my feet."

He wasn't the only one to forget about his feet. Peering around him, Jared cringed at the sight of the two long cuts which sliced across the soles of his feet. The cuts hadn't seemed as bad once they'd been cleaned and stitched up but there was no way he was going to be able to walk painlessly in the immediate future.

Brightening at the prospect that there was a physical rather than mental cause behind Jensen's current stance, Jared got up into a crouch and smiled at him. " _That_ I can help with." He lifted Jensen's arms to put them around his neck and did his best to get a hold on his legs without jarring his back. "C'mon."

It took more effort than he anticipated but after a couple of false starts, they made it onto the bed with Jensen landing in a sitting position and Jared dropping down next to him with a grin. "Much better."

Jensen's smile remained fragile and it wasn't until Jared had helped him drink a cup of water and had settled him on his stomach among the cushions that he stopped looking like he was going to collapse without warning. 

It took another long moment of Jared's hands stroking over his head and arms for Jensen to speak up with the timid question, "How did I get here?"

"We got you out of Leto's house last night," Jared answered. "Jeff helped me bring you back here but you were out of it until this morning." His fingers skimmed Jensen's hairline, tickling over the back of his neck. "Gotta say, I'm glad you got some sleep. How's your back feeling?"

"S'okay."

"Uh-huh. And can I have the real answer now please?" Jared teased, resuming his slow massage of Jensen's arms when he tensed up. "Talk to me, Jensen."

"It hurts," he admitted, "but I can deal with it."

"You're a terrible liar."

He heard Jensen exhale with a soft laugh and Jared had to admit he had a point; if he hadn't been exhausted, Jensen would probably have been able to fool him.

Jared was set to rebuke him further, or at least leave him alone to sleep, but Jensen spoke up again, his voice barely more than a whisper, "You can change your mind, you know."

"About you being a terrible liar?"

"About me, period," Jensen said quietly. "I've had enough masters to know that people get bored easily, Jared. And I know we talked about things but now that you own me-" He lowered his head, resting his chin on his crossed arms. "You can change your mind."

"Whoa." 

Jensen wouldn't look up so he shifted down to lie beside him, ducking his head to catch his eyes. "I'm not changing my mind about anything, okay? We've been together for more than ten years now; you really think I'm going to throw that all away after I've finally gotten you away from everybody else?"

Jensen lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes when they flickered up to Jared's. "Whatever you want."

"Yeah." Jared slid an arm around Jensen's waist, just missing the lowest line of wounds, and tugged him in closer. "Whatever I want." He kissed his shoulder. "And I want you. As far as I'm concerned, nothing's changed."

"Nothing's changed?" Jensen repeated incredulously. "Jared, you own me. I'd call that change."

"All right, yeah, I own you," he agreed. "That doesn't mean I love you any less."

Jensen looked skeptical and it was all too easy for Jared to imagine one of his former masters making similar promises.

He pushed on before Jensen could interrupt, moving in closer and saying honestly, "I haven't lied to you before, Jen, and I'm not going to start now." He cupped his cheek, encouraging Jensen's eyes to stay on his own as he swore, "As soon as you're well enough to come with me to the forum, we'll go ask a magistrate for your manumission. Hell, if you weren't on the verge of passing out every time you stand upright, I'd do it today."

Jensen's eyes widened and there was some genuine hopefulness in his gaze as he asked, "You'd free me?"

"I _will_ free you," Jared corrected. "I promise." He leaned in to drop a soft kiss to the corner of Jensen's lips and then pulled back enough to murmur, "You believe me?"

Smiling, Jensen opted to turn his head into the kiss instead of answering with words. It was messy and uncertain and at an awkward angle, but Jared knew it was exactly what both of them needed when Jensen made a tiny, happy noise at the feel of Jared's tongue playing against his own. 

Both of them were reluctant to part but when Jared pulled far enough away to take a breath, he felt Jensen smile against his cheek and whisper honestly, "I believe you."

****

+++

 _Nine days later_

Even in the relative coolness of November, Jared hated the forum.

The crowds were just as big; the stalls were just as busy; and the smell was just as bad, but now there was a coolness in the wind that caught the back of his neck every few minutes. The excitement and fear of the previous week had died down after the threat of Farrell's rebellion had been eliminated and it was business as usual for the law courts, street vendors, and orators operating in the open space of the forum.

However, while everything else felt so similar, there was no mistaking the uniqueness of this excursion.

Jensen was close beside him, walking next to him openly and in public for the first time in all the years they'd been together. He still walked like a slave, keeping his head bowed and his pace a little behind Jared's, but while the evidence of the flogging and the scars on his feet would take longer to fade, Jared hoped that he would be walking home as a free man.

Jensen stumbled a little when they reached the steps of the tabularium, knocked to the side by a burly quaestor with a retinue of hangers-on, and Jared caught his arm to stop him from falling before asking with reflexive concern, "You okay? Are your feet all right?"

Jensen looked more worried at the sight of the records' office than at the collision but he managed an eyeroll and a smile, clearly for Jared's benefit. 

"I'm fine," he assured. "Haven't we been through this enough times to know that I'd tell you if I wasn't okay?"

"Right," Jared teased. "Guess it was some other guy who passed out trying to clean the bedroom last week when he was too hurt to walk."

Jensen scowled at him but the usual smile that followed it was weak. His nerves gave him away when his eyes darted up to the entrance to the tabularium again, and Jared realized it was cruel to delay this any longer than necessary.

With a steadying hand on Jensen's arm, he led him up the steps and weaved through the slow stream of people coming in and out of the building until he caught sight of one of the praetors engaged in conversation across the room.

"He's here," he murmured in Jensen's ear. "Guess this is it."

Jensen looked like he was about to throw up but nodded and let himself be led across to the praetor, who looked over at Jared with a broad smile. "Padalecki! Good to see you, boy."

Letting go of Jensen's wrist, Jared reached out to accept the offered handshake and clapped him on the back, already feeling some of the tension ebb away in the face of the praetor's friendliness. "Hey, Stevenson. When did you get back in from the field?"

"Five days?" Stevenson guessed carelessly. "It didn't take long to put Farrell's army down; most of them were farmers who didn't even know which way to hold a sword." He chuckled but sobered up a little as he lowered his voice to a level that was quiet but interested, "Word is that you're the one who brought the whole fuckin' mess into the open. That true, kid? 'Cause if it was me that saved the Republic, I'd be shouting it from the steps of the Senate House."

Embarrassed, Jared shrugged and tugged Jensen closer with the explanation, "He was the one who told me what Farrell was planning. I just handed the information to the consul."

It was clear his casual tone didn't fool Stevenson and Jared watched silently as he looked Jensen up and down with a calculating gaze.

"He's a slave," he concluded before turning his attention back to Jared himself with a knowing smile and the assumption, "And you're here to free him."

"It's a long story," Jared admitted, "but yeah, I want to free him. Will you do it?"

Stevenson nodded in an instant. "Like I'm not going to make time for the hero of the hour." 

He moved to stand next to Jared, opening a space for Jensen to kneel, and Jared saw Jensen glance at him nervously, as though expecting to be laughed at and smacked away. He made his smile as encouraging as he could and kept it in place as Jensen sank to his knees on the stone floor, still braced for disappointment.

Beside him, the praetor began the recitation, and Jared watched Jensen's expression start to shift from uncertain to amazed as the reality of the situation sank in slowly. He looked up at him, eyes bright and hopeful, as Stevenson finished his pronouncement and turned to Jared with the prompt, "Finish it off, Padalecki."

A group of bystanders had gathered around them during the praetor's proclamation - manumission was not an everyday occurrence in the city - and Jared had to drag his eyes away from the circle of toga-clad citizens to the kneeling Jensen and his dark tunic. Jensen stared back up at him, half expectant and half pleading, and Jared couldn't stop the wide, delighted grin from spreading across his face as he announced to the praetor and the crowd, "I, as his master, want this man to be free."

The words were simple. Jared had gone over them so many times in his mind, from the very first day he'd met Jensen, to the four years they'd spent apart, to every time Jensen had been passed on to a new master like a commodity, but now that they'd been spoken aloud, they hardly seemed like enough.

They were evidently enough for the crowd, who mumbled to each other over scattered applause, and for Stevenson, who patted Jared on the shoulder and moved away with the good-natured comment, "You're welcome, Padalecki."

Most importantly, the words were enough for Jensen. His cheeks were still pale when Jared helped him to his feet and his expression was dazed, but from the tentative smile that curved across his lips, it was clear it was from shocked amazement rather than fear. 

The remainder of the crowd turned back to their business and Jared rested his hands on Jensen's hips. "You're free, Jen."

Jensen opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when his breath hitched, settling for a silent nod instead. Jared kissed his forehead, keeping the contact casual but reassuring, and intertwined his hand with his in the hope of making him feel more comfortable with the suggestion, "Let's go home."

They walked out hand-in-hand but paused when Jensen came to a halt at the top of the stairs, staring over the space of the forum spread out before them.

Somehow, the view felt different from when they came in, and Jared found that he didn't care about the smell, the noise, the crowds or anything else when Jensen looked out like he'd never seen any of it before and murmured with a stunned smile, "I'm free."


End file.
